


Saying Goodbye

by Crowley_Is_My_Copilot



Series: Dark Harlan [3]
Category: Justified
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-12 20:17:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4493295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowley_Is_My_Copilot/pseuds/Crowley_Is_My_Copilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mic says goodbye to Boyd and it doesn't go how she planned it. They're both surprised even though they shouldn't be.</p><p>Follow up to Rituals In Strange Places and Holes In The Ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andy - who started this and gave voice to boyd](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=andy+-+who+started+this+and+gave+voice+to+boyd).



> Based off a RP that has been going on for over a year. Finally getting back to writing fic and feedback is always welcome.

Blood swirled in the white sink of the motel bathroom as Mic washed her hands. She had left Harlan for almost a week, but kept her room for reasons she didn't want to think about and which was probably a mistake. If she didn't come back the one seventy-five for the week was no great loss. Mic had come back, however, less surprised by that fact and more resigned to it. Finishing cleaning the blood - none of it hers - off, she dried her hands and flipped on the TV. 

She had barely found something to watch when a knocked sounded at her door. Suspicion creeping up on her, she slowly peeked out the window. The sight was exactly what she had thought she might see; Boyd Crowder in jeans, button-up shirt, and vest, hair sticking up every which way, standing there like he owned the place. He might. Mic would have to check. She groaned, disliking the fact that her first emotion at seeing him had been a hint of excitement. Jerking open the door, she fixed him with a cold look.

"You have returned to us," he said, arms spread. His grin faltered at her expression. "Though this is not the joyous reunion I had pictured. Is that blood on your cheek?"

Before she could stop him, he had reached out and wiped the back of his hand over her cheek. She leaned away from him on instinct, disliking touch and wishing that wasn't the case without truly understanding _why_.

"Sorry, I was jus'--"

"No, it's fine," she said. "I'm not used to being touched."

"My apologies. Now I only came here to ask if you would like to partake of a drink with me. As long as you are not too indisposed from your travels."

Mic thought she was getting a faint headache.

"You wanted me to get a drink with you?"

"Yes."

"Even though you know what I am and I have blood on me?"

"Well," he said, leaning his weight on one leg and jutting out a hip as he considered the question. He shouldn't be asking a woman like her for a drink, shouldn't **want** to ask her. But he was. "Despite all that, despite your infernal nature and obvious threat you could pose, what with the blood and all, Mic, I trust you."

Her mouth fell open. It seemed to be a habit around him. No one had ever claimed to trust her before, certainly not knowing what she was. All those feelings she had been so studiously ignoring reared up.

"Give me a minute."

When she opened the door again, she had cleaned her cheek off and put her shoes on. They walked to the bar in silence, occasionally sneaking glances at each other, both pretending not to know what the other was doing. A few people gave her odd look but by now the small town rumor mill had done its work and no one was really that surprised to see the strange Indian woman who sometimes had drinks with the Crowder boy.

"Here's my real question," Mic said, once there was a lull in the conversation, tapping the side of her glass. "How did you know I was back? I hadn't been back an hour."

"I may not have your preternatural powers but I do have my ways," he said, tone conspiratorial before breaking out into a grin. "Nah, I'm not spying on you or anything. I stepped out back about the time you was stepping in. Perhaps it was fate, wouldn't that be something?"

"I don't believe in fate.

He leaned in close enough she could feel his hot breath on her ear and dropped his voice down to a hoarse whisper.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. Neither do I, not any more."

Mic smiled at him.


	2. Chapter 2

The door to the bar was locked and the bottle of bourbon was almost empty. It had been awhile since she had a conversation where she felt like nothing was at stake, longer still since she had laughed without holding back. There was a flush on her cheeks that she would like to say was from the drink. The laughter faded as Boyd moved around the bar to put the empty glasses in the sink. Mic stared down at the fading henna on her hands left over from her practice. She opened her mouth to speak and hoped the right words came out.

"I wanted you to know I'm leaving."

There. It's done, she thought, but she found herself leaning forward, catching the collar of his shirt with her fingers. He moved back slightly, wondering if her indulgence in him was coming to a bloody end, no matter how much he had said he trusted her.

They were both surprised by the kiss.

Her lips were warmer than any human ones he had ever kissed. His mouth tasted like alcohol and nicotine and she liked it. At first it had taken him off-guard but he recovered quickly, kissing her back like he thought he could figure her all out, just from that. It scared her. She pulled away.

"Where are you going?"

That wasn't the reaction she had expected. She didn't know _what_ she had expected but it wasn't the soft look tinged with befuddlement on his face.

"I think that's the least I've ever heard you say," she said, buying time to come up with an answer. She put her hands on the bar top. "I don't know yet. I never stay in one place for long. Things get complicated when I do."

He almost reached out to take her hands but she pulled them back as if she had read his mind.

“Thing’s can’t get much more complicated here, trust me. Dark Harlan ain’t just widowspeak tales and cottonmouth churches. There’s an undercurrent-- and it’s deep and it voracious and it’s eating up people faster than we can make ‘em.” He intertwined his fingers for a moment, elbows propped up on the bar, almost like he was praying. Mic watched him without wariness, the fear he might pose a threat to her gone. “Told myself maybe I should leave, lay low- start anew, forget the rise n’ fall of my accumulations here…but every time I think about runnin’ away I kinda despise myself for the cowardice. Remember that this is my home and no matter how far I go to outrun it, who I am and what I’ve done, that ain’t ever gonna change. We are who we are, Mic, and wanderin’ around tryin’ to say it ain’t so... well, it’s counterproductive.” 

"That's more like it," she said, softly, a bare hint of a laugh coloring her voice. "But you don't have the kind of complicated I can bring. You're right. I can't change it and part of that is I've never had a home. I have to leave."

"It's a good thing to have." Boyd unlaced his fingers and slipped his hands forward, palms up, as if he was offering them to her. "You're still here with me. It's a brilliant paradox." 

"I am." Now it was Mic's turn to began to reach out, fingers almost touching his, before she stopped herself and looked down. "Sorry." 

Hearing a genuine apology from a supposed creature of darkness spurred him to take her hands in his, the skin warmer than natural, examining the patterns on them. Mic tensed but held still, looking at him with a sort of defeat on her face and thinking, _God damn Boyd Crowder_. She was done and she knew it. Did he know it as well? There was something on his face that made her think he did. 

"Why are you doing that?" she asked as he moved his thumb across her knuckles.

"Never seen anything like it before." Carefully, he withdrew his hands and Mic took the chance to slip off the bar stool.

"I should go."

"Is this the last time I see you before you disappear into the night, never to step foot in Harlan again?"

"I don't think so."


End file.
